


She Made You Irredeemable

by sp8ce



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Doc Scratch Being Creepy, F/F, First Kiss, Forgiveness, Hayley Kiyoko - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Morality, Past Abuse, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 03:05:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp8ce/pseuds/sp8ce
Summary: Vriska wonders if she could escape into Aradia's definition of "good," but hasn't Aradia marked her irredeemable?





	She Made You Irredeemable

You wonder if you can ever be saved. You wonder if there’s a definition of good you could ever become. You think she made you irredeemable, and that’s the worst part. It’s worse than the fact you are weak enough to feel the guilt. It’s worse than you are so weak you’ve changed your habits because of words on a screen. It’s worse than your newfound isolation and the nightmares. You get that she did it on purpose, that this is  _ supposed  _ to be a punishment, and part of that just makes it all the more confusing because the part of you that she’s marking with a highlighter as “bad” finds it so admirable. But there’s that part of you that curls under covers to try to escape that wishes if she were to make you irredeemable by her definition of good, couldn’t she have at least  _ tried  _ to save you?

You don’t have the words for what you want to be. You always say it’s strength, you always say it’s being the best. You always want to drag everyone up with you, but she says that that’s down, and that you’ve gone too far, and now you have to face the consequences. She’s intoxicating because she is good, you see it ooze out of her, and you’re addicted to it. She’s intoxicating because she is strong, and it’s hurting you, and she’s somehow everything you ever want to be but never understood.

But mostly you just want to be her friend again.

You think you’re going to become a masochist (if you aren’t already one) from how often you open up your Facebook to check your new messages and see the onslaught of hate. But how can you just stop checking? You want to see if she’s messaged you. Or if anyone has. It’s been two weeks since she posted the videos and started the campaign, and the hate is calming down, but no one has messaged you since. You thought Kanaya would. Or Terezi. But everyone seems to agree that you’ve gone too far this time. 

When you end up messaging her, you know it’s weakness. You know it’s bad. You asked her to stop when she started, and she didn’t, and you hated yourself then, but now you just want to talk to your friend.

“ _ Hahahahahahahaha nice one there Megido I really learnt my lesson. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll even spare you retaliation because you couldn’t handle it and all. Anyways, what’s up?”  _ you text and send 

“ _I don’t really want to talk to you. And I’m not the person you should be apologising to,”_ she responds. You feel like you’re suffocating. 

“ _ I’ll find a way to make it up to him _ ,” you say, even though you shouldn’t. What has she done to you?

“ _ Whatever. _ ” she responds. Does she know that’s exactly how to hurt you? The idea is exhilarating as it is cutting.

“ _ So... friends? _ ” you send back to her. It’s not until you’ve been staring at the message for twenty minutes that you realise she’s going to leave you on read. You’re beginning to realise it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve won, she can never lose like you can because you’re broken. You care. It’s like the fractures inside of you ooze out the care. You’re a mess.

Later that evening, after your brain gets more and more frazzled and your mother screams at you for moping and being weak, you break. You leave your house and travel the two miles across town to get to her house to throw rocks at her window. Your motivation is revenge. How  _ dare  _ she? You have to get her back. But there are the fractures inside of you, and all you’re doing is bleeding.

You don’t actually have to throw rocks at her window because she lives in a one-story house, so instead, you knock on her window after sending her another quick text. You have to knock rather loudly before her light flickers on and she opens her curtains then window, her black hair shiny and wild.

“ _ Vriska _ ,” she gives out. She still opens the window to let you in. It almost suffocates you, how stupid that is. You suppose bedrooms are never necessarily safe, but you probably weren’t going to shatter her window, and she gives you a hand up to help you in, and you’re astounded by it. “So what are you doing here?” she asks once you’re successfully inside, her voice a whisper and your anger diminishing in the intimacy of the night. 

You feel safe.

You mean to scream at her, actually, you mean to punch her in the face and use brute force because you care about her too much to have actually planned out some retaliation that would cause her sincere damage. But you were never here for revenge. You’re just some scared little wimp who cries under blankets. You needed her. And that’s the greatest weakness of them all: needing someone.

“You  _ broke _ me,” you say angrily, your voice coming out way too loud in her small, safe room. She’s got a rug over the top of a carpet and tons of different stones and fossils lying on random desks all over the place. There are books from various disciplines and it’s all an eclectic mess like her head, and you’re obsessed, and it’s making you feel insecure because you’re intruding in something you’ve never known. It feels safe. You can’t be a threat here.

“You just needed to see the  _ gravity _ of what you’ve done,” she says. 

“Haha, I get it, gravity. Because, you know, he...”

“Vriska, he may never walk again!”

“Stop it, okay? Stop it. Just stop it,” you say.

“You have to face your guilt.”

“I get it, okay? I get it. I am weak, I am broken, you did that. Are you happy? Are you happy that you made me see my rotten core?”

“You need to lower your voice,” she whispers in response. You laugh at her audacity, and she gives you a stern look that crumples you. “Let’s just, sit okay?” And when she lightly touches your hand to guide you to sit beside her on her rug, you swear you see worlds collide. You can’t lose her. She means something you’ll never be able to have. She means the ability to be good.

You think your mother might actually kill you if she could hear what you are thinking.

“You broke me,” you say again. 

“You’re not broken because you’re able to feel guilt,” she says.

“The guilt wasn’t you breaking me, that was you winning, that was you making me weak and playing the cards right. You breaking me is you destroying my wish to retaliate. You breaking me is you getting me down on my knees to beg you to forgive me instead of destroying you like I should,” you say. _ You breaking me is how you made me need you _ .

“What?” she says.

“What?” you respond.

“I didn’t understand like any of that,” she says. “But I’m not the one who needs to forgive you.”

“But he’s  _ weak, _ that’s...” You think of that man, the one you don’t like, the one who knows you better than anyone else. Better than she does. Better than your mother. He was the one who tried to get you to retaliate. Sometimes, you think, he sets things into motion more than even your inability to figure out what is  _ strength _ .

“Why is he weak? Because he’s anxious? Because he’s kind and gentle?” she retorts. She’s wearing red leggings and a long black shirt. She looks like a rosy dream. Is that how she sees the world through rose-coloured glasses?

“Doesn’t it help him?” you say quietly, because you’re a little confused, and you were thinking about that man, and he makes you feel gross. He promised he wasn’t interested in you in any way besides talking to you, but it feels like he knows your insides in and out since he was paying attention to your blog for months.

“That’s messed up,” Aradia says. You’re surprised she has let you stay in her room this long. It’s the only thing keeping you sane. You want to cry and cry, but the messages won’t go away. You miss her. You really thought you had  _ something _ , even if she never liked you. Didn’t you sort of have a rivalry, with all the games you played? Didn’t it mean  _ something _ ?

“Please forgive me,” you say again. “Things can go back to normal,” you say, and you give her a smile. You didn’t retaliate on anyone, anyone. You disobeyed that doctor, you didn’t let him set you into motion (again) unless you did (did you?) because maybe this was his plan all along. You can never tell with him. You wish  _ he’d  _ die.

“I can’t just forgive you for that,” she says. “How will it go back to normal when Tavros is hurt?”

“What if he heals? What if he forgives me?” You know you can make him. He’s so soft and weak, and you can manipulate him so easily. Even now. You almost hope it’s more of a challenge now that you’ve hurt him so badly, that he finally  _ gets _ that he needs to protect himself. 

“Vriska... I don’t know okay?” You can’t handle this. You can’t handle any of this. He was right. Your mother was right. Everyone ever was right about you. All you are is weak. 

But the worst part is, Aradia seems to hate you for something else. She seems to hate you because you’re  _ cruel _ .

You can’t help it; you start  _ sobbing _ . You look at her through your tears, and she looks uncomfortable, and at least that is a triumph, at least you’re able to make her so uncomfortable with your weakness that she doesn’t even know what to do.

“Do you see why it’s bad,”  _ sharp, shuddered intake of breath _ , “Now? Why weakness is  _ loathsome _ .” You expect her to retaliate. Maybe she’ll hit you. Maybe she’ll record what you’re saying and put it on the internet. That sounds like something she’d do. Isn’t she your past come back to haunt you? You wish she’d break you with the intention to fix you, not hurt you.  _ But doesn’t that mean you need to admit you need to be fixed?  _ You wish she’d try to save you.

She does something you don’t expect, she touches your hand.

“No,” she says. You look up to her, and you don’t see anger, or the earlier frustration with you that had permeated your face while you begged her for forgiveness. “I see my friend.”

_ Her friend _ .

You don’t know what to do with that. It shocks you so much you stop crying, tears still sliding hot down your face. You think you’d die for this girl. You think you’d also kill her. Either way, she’s going to be your utter destruction.

“It worked,” you admit. “You won. You haunted me. You played your cards right, and I did nothing but  _ break _ . No fuss! No fight for me! You don’t even need to hit me,” you briefly think about hitting her, but her hand is still touching yours and it grounds you more than you think her punching you would. 

“Remorse isn’t a bad thing,” she says, a little confused. “You should speak to Karkat’s friend John.”

“I bet he’d hate me, just like everyone else,” you say, and you sigh loudly, and she grasps your hand. You hate how you want to kiss her. You hate how you want her to want you so badly she doesn’t know what to do, to think you’re the best thing in the world, all your sharp edges and all your cruelty and all your  _ fucking weakness _ . You want to spend time with her, you want her in a way you’ve never wanted anyone, not even Terezi, but it’s all so stupid and all so messed up, and you wonder if it’s more of her definition of cruelty to think about her thighs while she’s platonically holding her hand. 

_ Is this how she defeated you?  _

You truly are a masochist.

“I don’t hate you,” she says. You ponder that.

“I kind of want you to,” you say, staring down at the homely rug, in the nice warm room she allowed you to have a mental breakdown in because of her. 

“I guess I’ve hated you more than anyone else, but only at times, like I don’t actually hate you!” she says. She smiles at you, all shy with her smile that makes her seem like a sunset, like the warm last embrace of the day with the sky scattering colours protectively before everything turns into your neon blue and orange, all cold and bad. 

“How do you actually feel about me then,” you ask. She squints at you, and pulls her hand off yours. You think it might just make the world fall apart. You think you’ve crossed over the edge of the waterfall in the white rapid river you’ve been drowning in. 

“When you’re not a threat, I’d consider us friends,” she says, and she said it tersely.  _ Oh god, she knows _ . “Is that something to mock me for, Ms. Mindfang?”

“No, I think... that’s good,” you admit. She sounds accusatory, and you’re not entirely sure what you did wrong if she doesn’t know.  _ Oh god, she knows.  _ You think the world makes less sense, without her touch. “Hey Vriska, can I play you a song?” 

“Uh... sure,” you say, hating the way you sound confused. She pulls out her phone, and starts playing a song you swear you know very well.  _ It makes your heart tug, it makes you want her more _ .

When the lyrics starts, “ _ All the back and forth getting complicated... Running me around got me frustrated, no... _ ” you know it’s “What I Need” and it’s by  _ Hayley freaking Kiyoko _ .

You want to scream at her,  _ what are you gay? _ But instead you just listen, her hand still not on yours but just inches away and you hold yourself up on the floor with her body just barely apart. 

“ _ We could be bigger and brighter than space, ain’t no running away... _ ” You do something incredibly dumb, and move and inch closer to her face to kiss her.  _ You’re so fucking impulsive, you stupid b i t c h _ . And when you stop yourself, you gasp for air, shocked and  _ hurt  _ by how much you want her. How can she make you so happy? How can you show up so close to homicide, and end up in tears, aching for her touch? She squints at you in confusion, before she quickly kisses you on the lips, then pulls away, blushing. The song keeps play and she covers her mouth, but you think she’s smiling, you sure are, but when you pull away to give her more distance, your hands are shaking.

She stops the song not long before it ends.

“I’m sorry!” she says, taking her hand off her mouth, but she’s grinning, until you don’t respond, and her smile fades and her eyes widen. “I mean...”

“You’re my first kiss,” you say. You break out into a smile. “Did you know  _ that _ ? Did you know you can never take it away?”

“What?”

“No matter if you hate me now, you’ll always be my first kiss,” you say, and your smirk. You feel righteous in some way to mask the  _ incredible _ vulnerable feeling dancing in your chest with a partner of bubbly eccentricity that matches her disposition. 

“Is that a bad thing?” she says, and she’s so hesitant it just  _ melts  _ every barrier you have. You wish you were a scorpion instead of such a tiny little spider.

“No, it’s the fucking best thing in the world,” you admit quietly. She breaks out into a huge smile. She looks happier than you’ve seen her in a long time. 

“We should... we should talk about this in time? You should really talk to Tavros,” she says, and then she smiles again, too sweet, “For me?”

“Are you trying to control me?” you ask. “Is this part of how you beat me?” You think if she’d say yes, you’re too tired to react.

“Of course not! I just... it’s... well it’s not my  _ first  _ kiss, but with a girl...” You smile brightly, god, are you both just full of smiles? Didn’t you want to beat her up?

“Can’t take that way either!” you say.

“Can we hang out later then, after school tomorrow?” she asks. You see her glance at the door.  _ She wants you to leave _ . Your mother is going to be furious. She always wakes up. She always knows. And you can’t help but be  _ scared  _ every single time. “Vriska, are you okay?” Aradia asks, because you’re shaking now.

“Can I spend the night here tonight?” you ask quickly. “Just... crash on your floor? This rug is really nice,” you add when you realise that she might taken that the wrong way.

“What, are you scared of the dark?” she asks, confused, as if you didn’t show up here in the dark. 

“I’m scared,” you say.  _ Why does she have you admitting weaknesses _ . You feel more open with her than Kanaya, and you don’t understand that because Kanaya knows how to calm you and make you open up to her in ways that have probably saved your life. 

But it never felt like this.

“Okay,” she says. “I have a double bed, Vriska, you can sleep in it with me. Feferi and I do it all the time, and I don’t like her like that.” She anxiously looks down, then grabs your hand again, and god you hope she spends her life grabbing your hand. She’s so much, her affect, her energy, her radiance. She pulls you to the bed, then leds go to climb in on the left side, an obvious preference. You slide under the covers, so unsure, the only thing you really are sure of is that you would die for this girl, but you wouldn’t kill her. You’d kill  _ for  _ her.

You try to keep your distance, in the bed, wanting to give her space, but you’re still so  _ close  _ to her. You feel like you’re wrapped up in her essence and it’s the safest place you’ve ever been, truly, it’s where you want to spend the rest of your life. It’s like Kanaya’s couch and Terezi’s spare sandwiches at lunch and some unfamiliar feeling that does feel bigger and brighter than space, like maybe space could open up and swallow you whole. Like music, like the way she played that song, like the way the universe seems to collide together for the two of you to be here.

You wonder if this is all a part of her hurting you, but is she really that manipulative? You think she is, a bit, if the world she believes should exist would require it. It’s part of why you like her so, she’s bright as the sun. But would she really do that like this? It doesn’t seem right. This seems different. This seems like something  _ you’re  _ going to break. When she realises there’s nothing good in you. That there’s nothing to be saved.

You wonder if you can ever be saved.  

**Author's Note:**

> I found this started in my notes im so sorry i keep writing these aravris humanstuck oneshots look ijust loveeee lthememe
> 
> Um also my bff started watching Make Her Pay while I was writing this and I nearly died of hyperventilation. I'm 20 and somehow this is happening to me.
> 
> Are we feeling that sapphic energy in the air tonight my friends?
> 
> I really hope you like this!


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